Mountaineering Trip to the PNW Part 2: Planning

With gear purchased and testing in progress, the next step was to learn as much as possible about the mountains we were planning to climb.  There is nothing I hate more than going into a trip unprepared.  It's one thing if you're on a short summer hike on the east coast, but a winter expedition to volcanoes in the Cascades is a big deal.  Initially, our plan was to try to hit two state high points: Mt. Hood (11,250) and Mt. Rainier (14,409).

It was in this planning phase that I discovered that my ascent up Borah Peak in Idaho (12,667) from May 2015 was in fact a bust.  Socked in with clouds, I had made it to a false peak just above Chicken-out Ridge, nearly a mile and 1000 vertical feet from the actual summit.  This began clawing away at my insides, and I needed to get back to that mountain and give it another shot.  I asked Noah his thoughts on it, and he said "sure, put it on the list!"  I may have left out the fact that it was 700 miles away from Mt. Hood.

Borah

So Hood, Rainier, and Borah.  I was almost more focused on Borah at this point, but Noah was focused on Hood, so I figured we would eventually get all the information we needed with frequent "war meetings" as he puts it.  After looking into Rainier for a few nights, I had a gut feeling that was bad about it, so I told Noah that I thought it was outside of our range to pull it off, and I just didn't feel right about it. I felt good about Hood and Borah, so we continued our research on them.

Borah has a simple way up, and that is to follow the trail from Birch Springs Road in Custer Co., then follow Chicken-out ridge to the summit.  My memory of the route from 2015 is still quite vivid, and looking at past pictures and route maps, I felt comfortable leading a climb up there, so long as we both had appropriate gear.

Hood was more complicated since it was a new target for both of us.  South side routes were by far the most common, but near the top of Hood is where several routes diverge, and have a vast range of technical difficulties.  The two common routes are the Pearly Gates and the Old Chute.  The Old Chute cuts off to the left and avoids a big hazard called the bergschrund, just above the Hogsback, which we thought to be a good idea since neither of us is trained with rope skills and crevasse rescue.  Best to just avoid that altogether and climb to the left of it.  In either case, we knew we were in for a climb that approaches 45° slope (100% grade) while going through the chutes.

Old Chute (green) and Pearly Gates (red) from the Hogsback.
Courtesy cascadeclimbers.com

I sought advice online for some other climbs that we could do in the area in case of bad weather during the week I was planning to spend out there.  Someone suggested Mt. Saint Helens via Worm Flows, so I looked into it.  At 8,366', it was considerably lower than the other objectives, but still with an ascent over 5000 feet involved.  That would be a good starter for me, considering I would need to get acclimated to higher elevation for a climb of Mt. Hood.

Mt. Saint Helens, courtesy Noah Pappano

At this point, we agreed on Mt. Saint Helens, Mt. Hood, and Borah Peak for our big climbs on the trip.  The main focus was Hood, though I was irritated by my false summit attempt on Borah, it became the primary objective for me.  It is strange how planning a trip like this becomes more than a logistic problem, and almost an emotional one.  Some mountains speak to you, and they lure you in.

I managed to get some time off from work, and I got it to match up with my weekends, allowing me 9 consecutive days!  The plan was that I would fly to Portland, OR and Noah would drive up from Arizona starting a few days prior.  From there the climbing would begin (assuming good weather).

Noah decided he wanted to rent mountaineering gear from one of the shops in Portland to save a bit on money.  The reason I bought outright is because I see myself doing big climbs like this in the future, though I'm not sure where Noah stands on that spectrum.  (Perhaps opinions have changed after the trip...)  I would rent a helmet since I don't own one, and snowshoes because I couldn't figure out how to pack them inside the bag for the flight.

In the week before my flight west, I began checking the mountain weather and avalanche sites, and I began to see a big problem, and that was a good 3 or 4 days of heavy snow in the PNW.  As our research had taught us, avalanche danger is high during storms as well as the day or so after the storm.  With limited to no avalanche experience, we wanted to minimize that danger as much as we could.  The best option, it seemed, was to go to Borah first, since weather was fair over Idaho during the storm over the Cascades.

The way the weather was shaping up, it looked like the whole plan was going to be reversed: Borah, Hood, then St. Helens.  Not a horrible plan, but the elevations were not in my favor, coming from a mere 200 feet above sea level.  I wasn't terribly concerned for Noah, since he was coming from 7000 feet in Flagstaff.  Thankfully, the temperatures weren't quite what I'd call frigid, though Idaho was noticeably cooler than the west coast, where temps were hovering around the 40s - 50s.

A trip report of Borah Peak will be in Part 3.

Mountaineering Trip to the PNW, Part 1: The Backstory

As someone who has gone longer and bigger with my hikes over the past few years, a mountaineering expedition still loomed above as an intangible concept.  Well, I suppose that all changed over this winter when in September my buddy Noah from Baxter SP trail crew told me to come climb Mount Hood in February.  I was reluctant as it seemed like a logistic nightmare, especially with a full time job acquired after finishing my 2015 road trip.  I agreed that I would climb Mt. Hood at some point in the future, but with no timestamp to speak of.

Nearly a month later, after tossing the idea around for awhile, I decided I was going to do it. Logistics could be figured out, but Mount Hood was something I wanted in my life, and what better a time than in February, when cabin fever is going strong? On October 16, 2015, I messaged Noah:

"I've had enough of this life.  I've decided I am coming out to Oregon as per your request.  Which week in February would you like?"

It was a change in mentality for me, as I rejected the idea that it was something outside my reach.  I had climbed over 12k before, and I would have time and funds to buy and test out additional climbing gear over the winter.  They say the white mountains are a great place to train for much larger climbs, at least in regards to the ferocious weather.

Mt. Hood

Over the next month or so, I got mountaineering boots and crampons to accompany my ice axe and leash I had gotten last year.  I went with La Sportiva Nepal Evos, which have many good reviews amongst climbers, and because of the stiff sole, can accommodate step-in crampons and make crampon techniques less tiring during a climb.  As for crampons, I went with Black Diamond, a reputable brand in this segment.  I had a good idea of Black Diamond's quality from my ice axe so far, and I felt sound in my decision to stay with the brand.

La Sportiva Nepal Evo boots!

Black Diamond Sabertooth Pro crampons

It was awhile before I was able to try out any of this gear because the winter began so mildly and with hardly any snow.  Finally, in December I was able to test out gear in western Maine.  Baldpate Mountain and Old Speck were the first mountains to get the thorough test of my gear, and they performed beyond expectations.  The stiff boots are quite strange to walk in until you get used to them.  Over time, I've noticed that the ankle softens up a bit, which is more comfortable yet still provides the support needed for climbing steep slopes.

Over the winter hiking season prior to leaving for Oregon, I got in about 40 miles of testing and training in with my boots and crampons.  They make SUCH a difference compared to my Merrell Moabs, which I have hiked in almost exclusively so far, even in the winter season.  Normally, I am not a fan of boots for hiking, however with these boots as part of my gear, winter climbs are much more enjoyable, and they take my capabilities up a notch with the crampons.

2015 Road Trip: Part 38 (End of the Road)

Sheridan, WY
Public Transport...
Day 54 - 59
6.6.15 - 6.11.15

Here I begin writing about the final leg of my journey cross country.  I've had to take some time off to get my mind of the end of this trip, which, as you will see, did not go at all as planned.  It was a recipe of failed expectations, mystery, doubt, and sadness.  But let's not jump the gun.

If you remember from Part 37 of the road trip blog, Emma and I had just driven through Beartooth Pass, which was an absolute bomb of an adventure.  We found the campsite just outside Red Lodge, MT.  We woke up to the sound of one of those gators that the campground attendants drive.  That is a sound of sheer terror when you are looking to sneak in and out of a campsite.  Yes, we had to pay.  I think he realized we were trying to get in for free.  They don't like it.

A nice view of the mountains behind the campsite

We filled up with petrol in town, and headed eastward aiming for I-90, our path back to civilization and out of the bleakness that is Montana and Wyoming.  For a change, we mixed up drivers and Emma drove. This gave me a chance to take some pictures without having to drive - a pleasure after doing it for the whole trip until now.  Though you do get quite good at it after many thousands of pretty miles that you must capture but you shouldn't be stopping on the freeway.

A Montana sunrise

I-90 loops north and south a bit because of mountains in the area, so once again we got to enter Wyoming.  It was around this point in the trip that things began to go awry.  An unfriendly noise coming from the engine.

Welcome to Wyoming (again)

Not only was this a strange noise from the engine, but it was very much like the noise I heard earlier in the year while trying to do a mini road trip to Massachusetts and New York.  That noise caused the engine to die on me, requiring a tow and an engine replacement.  To put it simply, this is not a noise I was happy to hear in the least populated state in America: one that also happens to be several thousand miles from home.

I had pulled over to assess the noise when it happened in the winter, and I was unable to start the engine, so I decided we needed to get to a town at least, to minimize towing distance if necessary.  The next town was Sheridan, WY, still a fair distance when hearing an irritating click with every engine rotation.

I stopped into an auto parts place and one of the guys said it sounded like a worn connecting rod in the engine, and that basically means bye-bye engine.  Well shit.  Also no Subaru dealerships in town, and I'm advised not to drive the car.  We went to a nearby Toyota place, since I figure at least it's Japanese, like Subaru.  Same deal from them - don't drive the car, because it will die on me.

Where to stay for the night?  What to do about the car?  Get a new engine in it, sell it and get a beater to get home?  What about all my stuff?  I also have Emma with me, and she is supposed to be back in Chicago by the 10th of June.  When stuff goes bad, it snowballs, at least when it goes bad like this.  Many unknowns as of this point.  However, we were in a town with access to food and internet for finding other things, so as far as that goes, we were set.  A nice guy gave us a ride to Starbucks with free wifi, where we found that there was a city park right around the corner from the dealership that allowed camping for a few consecutive nights.  Talk about hitting it lucky.

Here was the skyline from our site at the nice grassy park:

Sheridan, WY

I spent several hours at Starbucks just trying to figure out what the hell my next steps were going to be, hoping the internet would be of some use.  I asked for advice online, and got some advice, perhaps not the greatest advice.  People recommended driving the car until it actually wouldn't drive anymore.  This sounded like a good idea at the time, so we chose a slower road east the next morning.

Cottonwood trees

Judge me as you like.  We left Sheridan the next morning with the horrendous rattle/click coming from the engine.  I didn't have much power, considering I was running on 3.5 cylinders.  Any hill was a struggle.  Well, we made it about 40 miles and then it happened, a shudder from the front of the car, the engine shut off, and a horrible cloud of steam coming from the hood.  I was expecting an explosion of sorts, so we booked it out of the car and got fairly far away.  There was thankfully no explosion, and we came in closer to look at what happened.  Oil and coolant leaking.  Never a good sign.  Out of nowhere, a local farmer on his ATV stopped by and offered his best diagnosis.  Cracked engine block.  He recommended we push the car down into his neighbor's driveway which was right behind the car, so we didn't get run over.

Here we sat.  I had a nice talk with a guy from AAA, who told me a guy would be on his way within an hour or so.  During this period of waiting, I had nothing better to do than to think about what had just happened, and how unexpectedly bad of a situation I was in.  We watched the train with a hundred cars go by.  A few cars went by, none of which were a tow truck.  It was utterly bleak.  Beautiful country, but bleak and barren. I decided to play the accordion.  Improv music will often help me deal with hard things.  I've used it in the past, but this time was very powerful. I'm not sure if it made anything better per say, or maybe it did...hard to know.  I know that it allowed for me to cry things out, which I'll be honest has not happened in many years.  I'm quite sure that this emotional distress came through in my music.  Music conveys nothing better than emotions in my opinion.  I was at a loss.  Confusion.  Disappointment in regards to the road trip having to end on the side of the road in rural Wyoming.  Frustration, because I was no longer able to give Emma a ride back to Chicago in the form of an exciting road trip.  And the death of a vehicle that had taken me over 11,000 miles across the nation to see things I've never come close to seeing before.  It let me do things I haven't done before.  Wombat was like a close friend, and on its deathbed, I outright killed him today.  It was imminent death considering an engine replacement was not in my budget.  But now it was in my hands...I had done it myself.

Even months after the fact, this is challenging for me to write about.  I want to forget about it.  I really want to not remember this part of it at all. But you all have been following the story mile after mile, so I owe it to you.  I owe it to myself, to accept that sometimes things turn bad when you least need them to.  On the bright side, I hadn't caused any injuries from crashing or the like.  That was not enough to turn my mood around. Maybe life has been kind to me, and I haven't had to experience something challenging like this before.  It was a step into the unknown, but way more at once than I wanted.

Tow truck arrived.  Big and yellow.  Engine functional.  That in itself pissed me off.  Thanks to Emma for trying to make me pull it together so I could talk to the driver and get him the information he needed for the tow.  When you just want to dissolve into the background and not exist. He towed us back to Sheridan, and dropped Wombat off in the back lot of the dealership.

The remainder of the day, I had to choose between getting my mind as far off the subject of reality as possible, or trying to deal with what lay ahead of me.  I aimlessly browsed used cars for sale in the area, none of which were in my budget.  Engines for Wombat cost more than the car itself.  For the time being, Wombat served as a storage area for all my stuff.

I spent many hours talking with people at the dealership to see if they might have something I could buy to get me as far as home.  And many hours on the phone with parents trying to figure out the best choice to move forward.  But there are only so many hours in a day, so Emma and got our stuff and headed back to the city park.

That evening, we had a nice sunset at our disposal to let us forget about reality.

Sunset over Sheridan WY

Day 3 in Sheridan.  The sun rises no matter what happens in life.  This is refreshing.

A child had left bubble mix at the picnic tables the night before.  I blew some bubbles.  They slowly sank to the grass, but with the morning dew on the blades, the bubbles didn't pop.  Sometimes it's the small things in life.

Over the course of my stay in Sheridan, a beautifully kept (or restored) original Beetle appeared at the dealership and was parked next to Wombat.  It was like a friend for Wombat during his last few days.

After some debating of options, it was decided that Emma would take a bus back to Chicago and I would take public transport home, shipping a few large boxes home.  I got myself some bus and plane tickets, and then I had the task of getting someone to take the car from me.  I had a hard time accepting that this would be the last time I could see Wombat. Here is a portrait in honor of a dutifully done job as long as Wombat was healthy. Without him, I would not have made it to the Pacific Ocean.  Without him, I would not have hiked to many peaks in the western states.  Without him, I would not have taken a journey that put me out of my comfort zone to try new things and see new places.

Goodbye, Wombat

I found a guy to take my car for $100.  It's damn disrespectful, but considering its mileage, maybe it's not worth putting a new engine in it. With three huge boxes sent off toward Maine via UPS, and three large backpacks on my person, I headed out in the evening to catch my bus to Billings, MT.  Yes I realize that is west, not east.  I spent the evening before my departure time at Starbucks once again, and some massive thunder storms rolled in.  It was inspiring, as I love a good thunderstorm. I was also very happy to be nearly on my way home after two months on the road.

The rain let up as I started to go to the bus station, and I got talking with the crazy guy at the gas station where the bus stopped.  I was the only person getting on that night.  Being a nighttime bus, there were many people sleeping on board, so I figured I would do the same, since I was on for a few hours anyway.  I admit, even as a driving enthusiast, it was nice to have someone else in charge of my getting around for a change. Time to relax and know that things are headed the way you need to go.

I got into Billings at 12:30am.  The driver had taken my license as collateral for the ticket that I was supposed to get at the depot in Billings. He must have been tired because he gave me my license back and my bags were waiting for me, so...I just left.  I like to consider that a frugal move.

Next stop, Billings Regional Airport.  My flight plan was a bit convoluted, since I was to fly to Seattle before flying to Boston.  I was told it was very much uphill to the airport from the bus station.  It was.  It's even more uphill when you look like a pack mule with three backpacks, heading up over the bluff at 2 in the morning.  I think it was a few miles or so.  I thought it was neat looking back at the city lights since I was above it all. I had to wait an unreasonable amount of time for my flight.  I arrived at the airport at 2:30am or so, and my flight was at 6pm the next evening.  I tried to get some sleep in the not-at-all-dark airport with crappy music playing.  Glad I had my sleeping bag and a pillow with me.  I tried to drown out the bad music with my ipod, but I just ended up falling asleep due to exhaustion.  Eight AM.  People start milling about, and even though I had found a nice corner with a plant to crash for the night, I was unhappy to be woken up, but more relieved that someone didn't ask me to move somewhere else during the night.

With bags checked, I hung out in the terminal.  Planes are kinda fun when TSA isn't a bitch to you.  Luckily I did not have any explosives or whiskey with me that would cause issues.  Minutes before departure time, the plane arrived, and here she is:

My chariot west to Seattle!

Once aboard, I was placed next to a nice man from Idaho.  We talked about how we ended up on this plane and the beautiful country that is in this area.  He was a longtime native, so I'm sure he knows better than me, but as a visitor, I surely loved the area.

Flying west over the Cascades was something I really enjoyed, since it was cloudy when I had driven east through them days before.  Nothing like snowy peaks in June.

I arrived in Seatac with a 2 hour layover.  It was strange to be in a place with so many other people at once.  After being almost exclusively on my own for most of 8 weeks, this was a shocker.

While getting a bite to eat, I saw this map of the airport and found some interesting errors.  Can you see what's wrong?  (Hint: the error is in yellow.)

Okay, fine...if you didn't find it, the bathroom sign to the left of Security Checkpoint 5 is upside down.  You can only use the toilets if you orient yourself upside down first.

For the first time in my flying history, I was not placed at a window seat. But an aisle seat was good for stretching out, considering it was an overnight flight.  Respect goes to those who fly over the time zones frequently, because I was getting all messed up.  Mountain Time in MT, then Pacific Time a few hours later, and then soon on my way to Eastern Time.

I don't recall much of what happened on the plane, likely because I slept most of the way.  Having someone do all the vehicle controlling is great because you can sleep during dark or boring parts of the journey. Compared to my 800+ mile day from Indiana to Arkansas where I had to be conscious the whole time...that was a drag at the end.

I remember waking up once during the flight to see the stunning red, orange, and blue glow in a perfectly clear sky across on the opposite side of the aircraft.  This is why it would be awesome to be the pilot on overnight flights.  You get to fly into the sunrise every flight you make eastward.  I soon fell back asleep, and awoke near the landing time in Boston.

It felt strange to be in a place that I had been before.  Familiarity was something I was unfamiliar with, ironically.  I was ready for it though.  My time away had been just long enough.  I accomplished my goals.  My goals were to leave home long enough to want to come back.  I was getting tired of home.  The road trip allowed me to occupy my mind with something else, and at the same time get to see many new places, all at my own pace, and at my discretion.

From Boston, I was to take a bus up to Bangor, where I would be excitedly greeting by my parents.  Even after sleeping in the plane, I felt very tired, and surprise...I ended up sleeping for some of the bus trip into Maine.  After my transfer in Portland, I ended up watching a movie without sound on the screens up above.  It was called The Trip, oddly enough.  Without sound, I was able to pick out that it was about a couple of British friends who went on a trip in a Range Rover, meeting up with different people along the way as they stayed at B&Bs.  There was some hiking involved as well.  I'd be curious to watch it with sound some day.

I was shocked at how much a recognized the area.  This probably seems normal to people, but coming home after an extended period was just such a strange experience for me.  More dramatic than returning from a trimester at college.  I was very excited to look up a road signs and know the cities and towns like the back of my hand.  This was something I hadn't done in several months.  Very fun when you're out of practice.

The meeting of the parents in Bangor was quite exhilarating.  It is amazing how distancing yourself for awhile can indeed make things much better.  I was very happy to be in a familiar place, and finally not so alone.  I learned how to be alone on my road trip.  Sometimes it is great and healthy.  But I think most people need some interaction with family or friends once in awhile.  I was happy to have spent a few weeks with Noah on my trip, and a week with Emma as well.  But I am equally happy to have spent some more time on my own, able to explore and make my own decisions without cross-checking with a road trip buddy.

I think this is the end of my writing about the Great Road Trip of 2015. Sorry about the lack of pictures during this last part.  Taking pictures is something you think of more when things are going well.  Not so much with things go....not as planned.

I'd like to thank those who followed this trip in part, or in whole.  It was nice to know that people were out there caring about my wellbeing from afar.  If you have or haven't done a trip like this, I highly recommend trying it if you can get the time for it.  it was exceptionally healing for me, as well as broadening my horizons, literally and figuratively.  Now that I have been bitten by the travel bug, I will try to infect all of you as well! :)

Oh - here's the final map of events thus far:

59 Days, 11k+ miles by car, 173 miles hiked,
a few more by plane, a few more by bus.

2015 Road Trip: Part 34 (OR-WA)

Oregon to Washington
Day 50
6.2.15

Like the day before, it was damp and mostly overcast on day 50 of the trip.  Now that Emma was traveling with me, we had to figure out some kind of shelter involving tarps and rope and other fun things since she had not come out to Oregon with a tent.  We'll call this Version 0.9, or perhaps just the beta test version.  There was a conflict of interests while building this shelter the night before.  See, Emma was after functionality, and I was after aesthetic perfection.  One side ended up being uneven which caused a wrinkle in the tarp.  I found this unacceptable and the loops along the top rope needed to be fully repositioned.  I won't mention how long this took.  But most importantly, no ropes were cut in the process.

Shelter version 0.9

The plan for the day was to head north along US-101 into Washington, though beyond that, any plans were vague at best.  I had been hoping for a sunny day at least some time along the coast, but today was not going to be that day.  We stopped at some place along the shore and enjoyed a walk by the waves.

Pacific Ocean and Sand

As you likely saw in the last road trip post, the west coast has bumpin' bridges compared to what I've seen in the east.  The best of which was the bridge that crosses into Washington across the Columbia River.  It is the widest bridge on the river, and also the most westerly.  We could see it for miles.

Columbia River

Once on the bridge, it was quite similar (in material and construction at least) to the Piscatiqua River bridge in Maine along I-95.  Unlike that bridge however, this one had a tall segment for letting warships pass, for example, and then a long causeway for the rest of it.

We had high hopes of it perhaps clearing a bit as the day went on.  We had picked a camping spot right in between Mt. Rainier and Mt. Saint Helens.  As it turns out, we saw neither of those mountains, despite Rainier being over 14 thousand feet.  The clouds seem to win every time.

Our camping spot was however very nice, even with no views of tall mountains.  It appeared to be an old paved farming area, grown in with grass in some places.  There were some mossy concrete bits here and there as remnants of foundations.  There was a strange cow across the road that was making noises I didn't know cows could make.  I honestly thought it was a guy yelping for attention.  Eventually the cow did settle down for the night, luckily before we did.

I failed to get a picture of Shelter 1.0 at this site, but this was a much better design that involved some additional tent stakes and some uber-reflecty orange P-cord.  Expect an immaculate shelter setup in a future post...

Day 50 added 402 miles to the journey, bringing the grand total to 10,038.  My trip finally made it into 5 digit numbers.

Day 50: 402 miles.

2015 Road Trip: Part 33 (Redwoods)

Redwoods State Park, CA
Day 48-49
5.31.15 - 6.1.15

I made progress south from Crate Lake NP to a small free campsite near the small town of Kerby, OR.  Because it was free, there wasn't too much maintenance and cleanup happening, but the good part about this is that I was able to find a semi-broken green folding chair.  I fixed it up with duct tape.  It also has built in speakers which sort of work if you plug in an iPod or something.  I can't imagine how many rainstorms it has endured.  Due to impending thunderstorms, I wanted to keep the picnic table dry, so up went a somewhat elaborate shelter.

After getting dinner all sorted away, I had to do some rearranging of the car because tomorrow I was going to continue my journey east with Emma, who was working on a farm in southwest Oregon.  (For those who don't know, Emma worked on the Baxter SP trail crew with me last fall.)

I went into town to catch up on some online things, and I got caught in this crazy hailstorm that dropped lots of loud pea-sized hail.  I was happy to be in a car, but it was very noisy.  It wasn't large enough to cause damage luckily.  But it covered the ground and looked very strange to someone who hasn't seen much hail before.

The total route map of the day from Mt. Thielsen to Kerby, OR is below. To date, the total miles driven is 9232.  (If you're checking my math along the way, you will realize this is above all the route maps combined. This is because I didn't bother to give maps for my wandering around the Eugene area for a few days.)

Day 48: 184 miles.

In the morning, I got up to no thunderstorms, so that was nice.  I picked up Emma and we continued south to check out the Redwoods of northern California.  As is usual, the rain began soon.  It gave an interesting mood, but it was not conducive to looking out along the Pacific coast.

There are several parks, state and national, that make up the Redwood area.  We went to Redwoods State Park if I'm not mistaken.  There was a trail called Trillium Falls Trail that was not too long and was supposed to bring us through some nice groves of tall trees.  And tall they were.

Redwoods are very wide.

I felt very small walking among the trees.  It's a cool feeling compared to trees in Maine.

Along the way, we found a friendly salamander.  I'm not sure if it was enjoying the attention, but it got some from us.

Wouldn't you befriend him?

Here is an example of a fallen redwood with me for scale.

Oregon has cool bridges along US-101.  Since it was cloudy and the coast was not really visible, we paid attention to the bridges instead.

This car was REALLY low in the back, but not in the front.
It looked ridiculous.

The distances were working out perfectly if we went back to the campsite I had just outside of Eugene again.  It's a bit inland, but it is tricky to find any good (read "cheap/free") places to camp on the coast if you're not a hiker or biker, so I felt better going to a place I knew existed.

Aside from it being wet and slightly raining, the campsite was nice to return to, especially since we got the same spot I had stayed at before.

Day 49: 404 miles.

Total miles traveled on the trip is 9636.

2015 Road Trip: Part 32 (Hillman Peak)

Hillman Peak
Crater Lake NP, OR
Day 48 cont.
5.31.15

The next destination for the day after Mt. Thielsen was the Crater Lake NP area, since I was just north of it already.  There is a peak along the rim of Crater Lake called Hillman Peak, and that being my last name, I couldn't let is sit untouched.  I entered the park from the north, and stopped a few times along the viewpoints just to gaze at how clear the glacial water is.  With polarized sunglasses, the surface glare is mostly removed, and you can actually see into the water a bit to the lakebed, which I thought was neat.

Here is Crater Lake!

Near to where the panorama was taken, the "trail" to the peak began. By "trail", I mean walking up in the correct direction, and a few stray footsteps.  There were snowy patches, considering that I was starting from considerably higher elevation.  Hillman Peak is at 8151', so it's lower than Thielsen, but it's the highest along the rim of the lake, so you in theory get a superb view all around.

On my way up, the brown stuff is wicked soft sand.

Soon, the summit was conquered.  A big moment for the family.  I wonder how many other people have climbed this just to stand up to their family name...

To the left, I was able to see Thielsen sticking up out of the hillside.

Mt. Thielsen

Looking down to the right is the Rim Road and The Watchman, the peak with the snowy face.

After descending, it was time for lunch, which is best done while sitting off the back of the car.

At this point, I was nearly out of gas, because I plan REAL well.  I had to make it 40 miles to the next station along my route.  After a failed attempt, where a station was not in operation, I did find some gas, which was able to get me to a campsite in the southwest corner of Oregon. More happenings from there TBA.

2015 Road Trip: Part 31 (Mt. Thielsen)

Mt. Thielsen, OR
Day 48 (and some of 47)
5.31.15

I spent three nights at the campsite just north of Horton, outside of Eugene by 20 or 30 miles, and while I was there, my neighbors were also camping for consecutive nights, so we finally introduced ourselves, shared some stories, and spent some time by their campfire.  Their names were Dave and Aaron I believe, each going on their own adventure.  Dave was slowly making his way through the state of Oregon on foot, with over 50 years of backpacking and wilderness experience behind him.  He is interested in going back to school to finish off some stuff he's started, and he is proof that you can spend your whole life immersed in nature, learning that way of life, and still go back to school any time you want.

Aaron was car-camping around the state sort of like I am, but he was going with his awesome cat Leo, who really enjoys car rides unlike most cats.  I had a great time hearing about all their experiences in this area and wherever else they had been in the world.  And to have it all happen around a campfire that I didn't have to start was fantastic.  Good to have that smell again.

I was going to spend four nights there, but I was inspired to head south to my next destination the evening of the fourth night, so that's what happened.  Ideas had been batted around for which large hike I was going to do in Oregon.  First I was going to go with Nora's friend Matt up North Sister, then he wasn't comfortable bringing me along because of some mountain conditions that he wasn't confident about, so then I was going to do something else a bit easier, like South Sister.  I had a strange gut feeling about going up that peak, and I felt better off doing something else, so he suggested Thielsen, which is just north of Crater Lake NP.  So that was my destination that evening.  About 160 miles away, and I admit it wasn't the greatest idea to leave at 9:30pm.

After doing a bit of stealth camping near the trailhead, from 1am until 4am, I was up again, ready to start the climb up Mt. Thielson.  The mosquitoes were horribly friendly in their swarming habits, so the but net was necessary to maintain sanity.  (Also, the fee was not required...you just stick the slip on your dash and that seems to work okay.)  At 5:20am, I set off.

In the beginning, there were mosquitoes, and God somehow saw that it
was good, so they multiplied like crazy.

Here is a trail map so you can see sort of what I was up against. Beginning at 5400', and climbing slowly at first, then joining up with the PCT (yellow) and then continuing along a climbers trail up the west ridge to the final spire.

After not very long, I received a crazy view of the summit spire through the trees.  I was happy I was coming up the right side and not the left. Because falling on the left side would mean certain death.

Higher up, the trees started to clear.  I think this was around the place where the trail joins up with the PCT.  It was here I realized that I didn't need the snowshoes I had lugged up with me.  I left them here on the trail.  I couldn't quite see up where the trail was, so I kept the axe and the spikes just in case.

Another shot with more of the snowfield below.

In the opposite direction, you can see Diamond Lake (I camped near there) and Mount Baker on the other side of the lake.

I was excited about this climb because for once, it looked like I was not going to be hiking in the clouds for the summit.  After my luck so far on this trip, that was something worth celebrating.

Along the scree field, which was frustrating to walk on because nothing is solid or stable, I saw all these weird volcanic outcroppings.  This is an eroded shield volcano after all.

Higher up, the scree turned from dust and larger rocks to small bits of shale that were equally as unnerving to walk across.

The sun was making its way through the hazy overcast clouds and it made a funny shadow on the trees below, reminding me how pointy this summit really is.

The ridge came up on my quickly, since I had been focusing on footing so much.  The view was amazing, with snow accenting the peaks in the distance, but without the hassle of having to deal with snow myself. (The trail had been completely dry all the way up, and the axe and spikes were unnecessary...oh well, better to have prepared.)

Right below the summit spire, debating whether or not to try and go up. They consider it a Class 4 scramble, or depending on how to climb it, a mild Class 5, which is commonly known as technical climbing.  I decided to go for it.  It wasn't too bad, since it was all dry rock, and most importantly, solid and not crumbling.

After a few minutes of carefully testing hand and foot holds, I got to the tippy top, and saw the survey marker on top!

I had made it up in 2:25, which I was happy with.  Not that I could do much to change that.  I think the mileage up is somewhere around 4.9 miles depending on how many switchbacks you make along the scree field.

The view along the south ridge toward Mt. McLoughlin. 

After sitting in awe on top, I came down, and walked along Chicken Ledge to look back at the spire.  I was very surprised to see how steep it really was.  I wouldn't have gone up had I seen this view prior to going up.

I took a good long break on top, since I had gotten an early start, so there was no rush.  I made a call home, and there was surprisingly good service considering it was a wilderness area.  So if you fall and almost die while hiking here, you could probably make a call out and get help.

I took a goodbye photo of the lovely spire on my way down.  The sun had come out, and it was rather hot, even with most of the layers I had strapped onto the pack.

Of course, the mosquitoes had to make a reappearance for the encore. I wasn't even walking quickly enough to outrun (outfly?) them, so out came the bug net.

I saw a man hiking up as I was headed down, and he was driving a twin of Wombat!  I got a picture for reference.  Or for enjoyment.

A couple had just arrived as I stopped the clock at just over 5 hours (timed car to car).  They were on their way up, and the lady turned out to be a concert pianist who was out hiking for her birthday weekend!  You never know who you might meet out on the trail...

Hike Details
Trail length: approx. 9.8 miles
Ascent time: 2:25 hr
Descent time: 1:50 hr
Total ascent: 3,782'
Summit elevation: 9,182'

Today's accomplishments to be continued in the next post, Part XXXII...